


A Fallen Captain

by Simply_Isnt_On



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU work, Alternate Universe- Magical Realism, M/M, Sherlock AU, mer!lock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-20
Updated: 2013-02-20
Packaged: 2017-11-29 21:36:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/691715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Simply_Isnt_On/pseuds/Simply_Isnt_On
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John falls overboard to an unexpected saviour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Fallen Captain

**Author's Note:**

> Saw a fanart on Tumblr, and my brain decided that it needed a fic desperately. So here it is (even though there are several other fics for it already written- I didn't know.)

John hadn’t expected to fall overboard. After all, he was a naval doctor in the queens military. He should have been able to stay on board, no matter how bad the storm. But none of that had made the slightest difference. He was in the water, and lightning was flashing and rain was pelting and the waves were washing over him, pushing him down again and again. The men still on board apparently hadn’t noticed him fall, and likewise hadn’t noticed his shouts over the sound of the storm. When the ship disappeared from view, Doctor John Watson was forced to accept that he was lost at sea. 

He tread water, trying to keep his head up, but as he was pushed under again and again, water filled his mouth and made his eyes burn and cry from the salt. Finally, after an unknowable amount of time, he felt his arms begin to weaken. He was so tired… his eyes fell shut, and he sank, bobbing once, twice, before staying down. 

Deeper and deeper he sank. It was quiet beneath the waves, eerily so, and he felt rather than saw the last of his breath bubble up out of his nose and mouth and rise to the surface. His limbs twitched in a weak attempt to propel himself upwards, to follow it and perhaps reclaim it, but he was simply too tired. His head began to grow lighter, and he saw spots. Then the sea went black.

Sherlock had been watching the ship being tossed about by the waves. He’d watched them fighting each other to push it one way, then the other, and he watched as a man was thrown overboard by a particularly large one. The other Mer he’d been with swam away, moving where the ship did, following it, enjoying the spectacle, but Sherlock stayed, tail flicking curiously, simply observing the flailing man in the water.

When it was clear the ship wasn’t coming back, he swam closer, so that he was directly beneath the man in a captain’s blue jacket and white trousers. He watched him struggle to keep his head above water, and was even vaguely impressed with his insistence and vitality, the will to live pulsing strong and frantic beneath his skin. 

Then he stopped moving. Sherlock had known it was coming, the man had been slowing down bit by bit for several minutes. So when he slipped beneath the waves, and the air floated up from his nose in a lovely silvery bubble, it took him a moment to realize that he was finally done. And he felt a twinge he’d never felt before, beneath his breast bone, urging him to go to the man. So, despite everything he knew, everything he’d been taught, he flicked his tail again, propelling himself upwards into the optimum position to catch the captain in his cradled arms.

The man’s eyes were closed, and his face was slowly turning blue. Sherlock ran a hand over his hair, and almost on impulse, he leaned over and brought his lips into contact with those of the drowning man’s.

John felt a spark, weak and far away. He’d been floating in darkness, and that one spark was like an explosion. His heart stuttered, started, stopped again. Started. Beat. Once. Twice. His eyes flew open, and he stared up at the closed eyes of the most beautiful man he’d ever seen, who also currently had his mouth pressed to John’s. He gasped and gargled against his lips, and the man’s eyes flew open.

They stared at each other for a long moment, and then John opened his mouth. The spark dimmed, his heart stuttered, and the black began to rush in with the water pouring into his mouth. He gargled, and Sherlock pressed his mouth closed again with his lips. They stayed there for a long moment, the spark growing, and then Sherlock gently pulled away, pressing John’s mouth closed with his hands. John took the hint, and managed to keep the water out. Then Sherlock hooked his hands under John’s arms and tugged him to the surface, towing him along until they got to his ship again. That’s where he left him, bobbing in the water near the boat.

John was rescued by his crew, and he was half-dead by the time they managed to drag him onto the deck. He spent several days asleep in the brig, recovering, and when he awoke, his first thought was one of disappointment that the man he remembered kissing him back to life hadn’t been what woke him. It had been a bell on deck.

John returned to his duties soon after that, and though he never saw the man again, he could swear that sometimes, when he was out on his night watch with nothing but a lantern and the stars for company, his heart would give a little stutter-jump, and he’d lean over the edge and look down at the waters in time to see the blue-black tail of what seemed to be an extremely pale, dark-headed fish slip beneath the waves. And he’d smile.

 

***

Inspired by [this art](http://fallen-saintsam.tumblr.com/post/33173377881/shermaid-or-merlock) on Tumblr.

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews, brit-picks, and critiques are love. Also, I'm still relatively new, and as such may have tagged and/or formatted something wrong. If you spot typos or formatting errors, feel free to tell me.


End file.
